The Soldier's Promise. Patricia Potter

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      He thought about the day ahead and the growing list of things to do. Not for the first time, he wondered why in the hell he didn’t just walk away.

      He heard the soft snoring of Amos and knew why. Amos needed a safe place where he could learn to play. Learn to feel safe. Being dragged from one temporary place to another would not be helpful.

      But, he admitted to himself, maybe part of him wanted to stay, too. A part hidden deep inside. He’d never belonged to anything but the army and his buddies, and that, he’d learned, had no permanence.

      He needed a challenge, and the cabin was certainly a challenge. He hadn’t known what to expect, but he sure as hell hadn’t anticipated the amount of work needed. He welcomed it. Bringing order to chaos was something he knew.

      And once this place was fixed, it wouldn’t be half-bad. He envisioned a large porch that overlooked the lake and the mountains beyond. But then what?

      Josh turned to the edge of the bed and ran his hand over Amos’s back as he’d seen Dave do countless times. Amos would usually roll over and beg a belly rub. But Amos ignored the overture, merely looked at him with a gaze that held a sorrow and confusion that broke Josh’s heart.

      He’d read and heard about dogs like Amos. Greyfriars Bobby for one, the little Scottish terrier who wouldn’t leave his master’s grave until he died, or more recently tales of other service dogs who’d mourned for their handlers.

      “Aw, Amos,” he said. “One of these days you’ll offer your belly to me, too.”

      He hoped. It was the least he could do for Dave—Dave, who’d had his own demons. Maybe that was why they’d bonded as much as two loners could.

      Time to get up. The vet—Stephanie—was coming today. He needed to clean up as much as possible. He stood slowly, ignoring the pain that flared. He needed to do the exercises he’d neglected the past few days. But first Amos had to go outside.

      “Come on, Amos. Latrine time.” Josh pulled on a pair of jeans and opened the door. Amos reluctantly left the safety of the cabin and did his business, then returned immediately to the door. No sniffing. Or playing or wriggling with delight.

      “What am I, chopped liver?” he asked Amos as he opened the door. Amos didn’t bother to answer as he slunk inside.

      Josh stayed outside and soaked in the cool breeze. The sun was a huge golden ball rising in the east, and the fresh, spicy scent of evergreens filled the air. He was beginning to understand the appeal of the cabin.

      He needed his coffee. He brewed his in an old-fashioned percolator he had found in the general store. He’d had enough bad coffee to appreciate the good. He poured cereal into a bowl, got milk from the cooler and knew he had to do something about a fridge.

      Josh spent the next thirty minutes on the exercises prescribed by his doctor and physical therapist. His leg would never be what it once was. New manufactured parts had taken the place of old ones, particularly in his ankle. There had been three operations, including two bone transplants and one to fuse his left foot where the main nerve had been severed. He would never have the old mobility, but he was grateful for what he did have. A lot of guys in the hospital had much, much less, and their courage was humbling.

      He was sweating when he finished. He took a hot shower, then dressed in a clean pair of jeans and polo shirt before the vet arrived. The cabin was bad enough without his looking like a deadbeat. Amos could still be taken away from him if the army thought he wasn’t being treated properly.

      Josh stared at his image in the mirror and thought about the visit from the mayor. He needed a haircut. Bad. There were touches of gray in his sandy hair although he was only in his mid-thirties. Lines had deepened around his eyes and tightened around his mouth. He looked tired and cynical. Face it. You look like hell. It hadn’t mattered for months but, for some reason, it did now.

      His cell phone rang. He recognized the number immediately. His attorney. He’d called him yesterday about the deed.

      “I got your message,” Laine Mabry said. “The deed was been received by the clerk’s office but not recorded. I raised hell and today it’s official. I faxed a copy to the mayor and I’m sending you a copy.”

      “Thanks.”

      “There’s something else,” the attorney said. “The police chief in Covenant Falls called me. We’re old friends. He wanted information about you.”

      “And what did you tell him?”

      “That as far as I knew you were an upstanding citizen and anything else involved attorney/client privilege, as per your instructions.”

      “The police chief, huh? What time would that have been?”

      “About eleven yesterday.”

      So the call was made after the mayor’s visit. He felt like he had been kicked in a tender region. Yeah, he had been a smart-ass, but he’d liked her and thought she felt the same. More than liked her. If she hadn’t been wearing a ring...

      But then what would she want with a broken-down soldier with few prospects? “Thanks,” he said.

      There was a pause. “It’s your business, but why not just satisfy curiosity? People in small towns are naturally curious.”

      “There’s things I want to forget, that’s why,” he said. “I sure as hell don’t want anyone to thank me for my service, not when it killed my best friend and a bunch of other really good guys.”

      “Understood,” his attorney said, and hung up.

      Josh put the cell in his pocket and wondered who else the police chief had contacted.

      Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d gone out of his way to be rude and avoid people. Rudeness hadn’t worked with the mayor, and he’d found himself enjoying the verbal duel. And he was intrigued with her...even though she wasn’t his type at all.

      He tried to brush away the attraction he’d felt for the mayor, tried to do the same with the arousal that had an irritating way of returning when he thought about her.

      It was nothing but the fact he’d been too long without female company.

      The list. Back to the list. He had finished scraping paint and filling in holes on the living room walls. He planned to prime it today, then paint it tomorrow.

      There was also the Harley outside, but that was at the bottom of his list.

      Other than giving it a brief inspection, he’d hadn’t had time to work on it since the bike had arrived from Georgia, along with his other belongings. It hadn’t been used since before his last deployment to Afghanistan.

      He missed it. It was one of his few big purchases, and he’d ridden across the country on it while on his leaves. It had been his only vehicle until he’d bought the used Jeep Wrangler to pick up Amos.

      He sipped a second cup of coffee as he looked around. He wondered how the property had looked when Dave’s family had owned it. Or why his friend had clung to it despite never coming back.

      He finished his coffee and went into the smaller, СКАЧАТЬ